


"Curiouser and curiouser!"

by goth_on_ham



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, Friendship, Gratuitous use of words created by Lewis Carroll, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 14:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12459873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goth_on_ham/pseuds/goth_on_ham
Summary: Jervis is delighted to hear that he is getting a roommate, but then he meets him and he is bitterly disappointed. Jerome is rude and uncouth and he doesn't like him. At all.





	"Curiouser and curiouser!"

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime after s3.

Jervis had been thrilled when he heard that he was to have a roommate. 

'At last!’ He had thought. 'Someone to share my woes with! A sympathetic ear to hear my sad tale! Or at the very least, a pawn for me to amuse myself with!’

However, his joy was short-lived when he saw who his companion was to be. A slithy sort of fellow with hair as red as the Red Queen. His first words to him sent a shiver up Jervis’ spine.

“Hello there, dollface. I didn't know this dump was co-ed.” 

Jervis was insulted. He wasn't the most manxome of men, but he was most certainly a man nonetheless. No one had ever mistaken him for a woman before. The ludicrous nature of the statement threw him, and he was not often thrown by gaps in other people's logic. If anything, he was usually the one doing the throwing. Sometimes it was intentional. Sometimes it wasn't. Either way, he found out that he didn't like being on the other end of things.

“Excuse me?” He said, although he had heard the younger man perfectly well. 

The youth ignored him and jumped onto one of the two beds in the small cell. It was the bed that had been Jervis’. Jervis gasped at the unabashed rudeness. He hadn't even removed his shoes.

“My name’s Jerome Valeska. Pleased to meetcha.” 

“Jervis Tetch.” He tipped his paper mache hat at him, but otherwise did not return pleasantries. Perhaps he could request a different roommate. He wondered who he would put such a request to? A guard? The Director? He resolved to inquire about it first thing the next day.

“This is the only time I’ve met a bearded lady outside the circus. Not that I’m judging. Although it might tickle a bit if I decide to kiss you.” Jerome chortled, and Jervis could not hold in his disapproval a moment longer.

“I am not a bearded lady, I am a man. If you cannot see that, then something must be the matter with your vision.” He expected a fight to come of this confrontation, because he was frumious and the youth had a dangerous sort of look about him. Brawn was not his strong suit, but if it came to it he would do his best. He would not back down from such a loathsome creature. He had to assert himself or the night ahead of him would be even more miserable than when Barnes would keep him up all night with his yelling. 

However, it turned out there would be no fight. The dangerous look quickly turned into amusement and Jerome began to laugh heartily. It wasn't a pleasant sound, but it wasn't threatening either.

“I think we're going to get along just fine, Tetch.”

Jervis disagreed. 

Jerome hummed thoughtfully and drummed his fingers against his chin. “Or maybe I should I call you Tetchy? That's some temper you've got when things don't go your way.” 

He clicked his fingers then nodded. He had decided. “Yes. I like that. From now on, I’m calling you Tetchy.”

Jervis supposed it was moderately better than becoming known as Arkham’s bearded lady.

\--

As if his first impression was not enough to sour Jervis’ view of the young man, he soon got further confirmation that he was every bit as slurvish as he had first believed. If not even moreso.

He did not give Jervis his bed back, and Jervis was forced to sleep on the other one. He was sure it was less comfortable. 

He also stole Jervis’ dessert on four of the seven days of the week, and he suspected he only let him keep it on the other three days because he didn't like Arkham’s mimsy attempt at custard and cake. 

On their eighth day sharing a cell together, Jervis was relieved to be free of him for the afternoon and most of the evening. Jerome was being assessed for a new trial drug, a powerful antipsychotic, and the tests would apparently take several hours to complete. Jervis celebrated by listening to Alice in Wonderland on tape and giving his paper mache hat a fresh layer of newspaper. 

His hat was drying on the cell’s small writing desk when he heard the alarm bells. He jumped up from the bed and peered through the bars of his door to try to see what was going on.

Then, suddenly, the door opened and Jervis nearly fell flat on his face into the hallway. He had only just righted himself when he felt a hand grab him by the wrist and a familiar, unpleasant, gleeful chuckle filled his ears. “Come on, Tetchy! It's time for an adventure!”

\--

They made their way through the tulgey woods and found a cabin to settle in for the night. It was a cold, draughty place, with holes in the wall and a ceiling that let in some rainwater. Jerome asserted that all it needed was a lick of paint. Jervis smiled as politely as he could and agreed it was very nice. However, he secretly planned to make his exit quietly when Jerome went to sleep. 

They found a bed which Jerome of course claimed as his own. Although Jervis did not particularly want it. The dust it carried made him have a sneezing fit as soon as Jerome bounced on top of it. The younger man laughed.

“You know, Tetchy, there's something I’ve been meaning to ask you about.” Jerome said, as the bed’s creaky old mattress began to steady. He pointed to his own throat and tapped it with his finger. “What’s with the scar?”

Jervis had not tried to guess his question, because Jerome had never once done as he had expected, but it still took him by surprise. Primarily because while he did have a scar on his neck, it was nowhere near as noticeable as the ones that were littered over Jerome's face.

He put his hand to the mark, feeling the slight unevenness of it underneath his palm. He did not like to be reminded of if, but compared to some questions Jerome could have asked, it was innocent enough.

“The loathsome Jabberwocky known as Jim Gordon gave me this. He cut me deep and took my blood, and more than that, he stole my beloved sister from me.” 

In a sense, he believed he had taken his sister twice from him. First through her tragic death, second by using his blood to cure her virus.

Jerome didn't show sympathy, but Jervis had not expected it. He was somewhat appreciative that he at least did not laugh at his heartbreak. 

“Jimbo, eh? Why am I not surprised?” He remarked, while propping his head up with a hand on his cheek. 

“You have also crossed swords with him?” 

“Oh yeah.” Jerome grinned. “A few times.”

Jervis found himself relaxing a bit upon hearing that news. They had a common foe. Perhaps the youth was not all bad.

“Tell me about them. I am sick of hearing of his so-called heroism. I wish to hear more of the truth, more of his villainy!” Jervis implored him, and he sat on the floor by the bed so he could attentively listen to Jerome's tale.

\--

He did not escape that night. Instead, the two of them stayed up for many hours talking of Jim Gordon's treachery, and then, other things.

Jerome told him more about the circumstances behind breakout. Jervis could not hide how impressed he was when Jerome described how he had escaped the guards and busted into the security office, and then turned off all the locks.

It was a simple enough method, but dangerous. Few would have the confidence to attempt such a brazen feat out of fear of being shot.

Jervis actually found himself liking and laughing at some of the boy’s jokes, and when the sun started to come up, the former contempt he held him in seemed far, far away. Vanished.

He was tired though. He could feel his eyelids beginning to close and his head dropped forwards once every few minutes in sleep's attempt to steal him away from his new friend. 

Jerome seemed remarkably awake.

“Come up here.” He offered, and he scooted backwards a little so there would be room for Jervis on the bed. 

If he had been less tired, he would have declined due to the dust. But the mattress, old and creaky and dusty though it was, called to him.

“Thank you.” He stood up, a little wobbly, and lay down on it. 

The bed was only meant for one, so it was cosy, but not unpleasantly so.

For a time, he had shared a small bed like it with Alice. They had been poor then, and their parents said there was no point in buying a new bed when both of them could fit on the one they had. Besides, it kept them warmer. It saved money on the heating.

“In case I didn't make it clear, Tetchy… I like your scar.” Jerome told him quietly, not long before Jervis fell asleep. 

“You do?” He mumbled, voice a little muffled because his face had found a comfortable spot on Jerome's chest to lie against. 

Jerome tangled his fingers through his hair and hummed in approval. “Oh yeah. It's sexy.”

Jervis supposed he should have protested at that, but he found he didn't mind. Besides, he could already feel his mind started to fog over with sleep.


End file.
